[verse 1: 360] they wanna know where 6 at (6 at) when i hit ’em with this track they would likely retire (uh-huh) the fact is i hate rappers as well i’d rather battle myself and fight fire with fire (fire) what i’m sayin’ in my song’ll amaze ya what i’m tryna say is you’ll get lost in it, ayy, brah honestly with the quality we droppin’ if you wanna degrade us it’s gotta be a plus i ain’t listenin’ to hip-hop these days everybody just a bunch of hip-hop clichés (true) go ahead and buy my sh-t off ebay i’m here to break records like a p-ssed off dj (snap) yeah, i can tell it in your melon you developin’ a habit, better gallop into rehab (rehab) uh, i’m a fellow without manners not a felon, i’ma khaled ’em and tell ’em where the keys at (another one) i can smell it, where the weed at? honestly, homie, yo, i can tell you’re gonna relapse, relax you’re a dope fiend for the codeine you’re a fat joe fan, got you yellin’ for the lean back

[chorus: 360 (pez)] coup de grâce, coup de grâce anyone can get it, i don’t care who you are (uh-uh) coup de grâce, coup de grâce i don’t give a f-ck who you are

[verse 2: pez] i been lookin’ around, but i still haven’t found my place that’s why you see me drift off into outer sp-ce all you down-to-earth rappers can eat sour grapes or a sour steak, my whole f-ckin’ fridge is out of date i rocked up to the studio an hour late (yeah) and snuck in like, “hey guys, it sounded great” i swear to god, i hear another of you welterweight rapper’s who sound the same and there’ll be f-ckin’ h-ll to pay (man) i’m feelin’ back in my element like i’m channeling the devil, writing rap for the h-ll of it to remind these motherf-ckers that i’m actually talented i don’t want to but i have to keep tellin’ ’em (what’s that) i can pad this verse out with lyrics that are six years old ’cause i wrote better sh-t than you when i was six years old (it’s true) all you rappers from the new school who just enrolled if you don’t know that i’m the sh-t then you just been told (b-tch)

[chorus: pez (360)] coup de grâce, coup de grâce anyone can get it, i don’t care who you are (i don’t though) yeah, coup de grâce, coup de grâce i don’t give a f-ck who you are

[verse 3: 360] yeah you ain’t sicker than this fidgety b-tch (nup) lyckety-splyt stick to the script and play the role you given (yeah) thinkin’ your sh-t’s bigger than this, no, it isn’t i’ma put your head in a box, boy, you goin’ missin’ i got a chicken, i ain’t talkin’ ’bout a parma, ayy pull-out game strong, i ain’t comin’ to your party, mate mad at the buzz, your alarm is late reverse kanga, this sh-t is hard to take look, decided it’s finally time for bravado line after line after line like a barcode you trash c-nts who ain’t worth the work so go and pull yourself together like a circle jerk, motherf-ckers

[chorus: 360 & seth sentry] coup de grâce, coup de grâce anyone can get it, i don’t care who you are (yeah) coup de grâce, coup de grâce i don’t give a f-ck who you are (nope) man, coup de grâce, coup de grâce anyone can get it, i don’t care who you are uh, coup de grâce, coup de grâce i don’t give a f-ck who you are

[verse 4: seth sentry] man, i’m doin’ sh-t my own way i’m kicking bubblegum and chewing -rs- (yeah) slidin’ through your studio inside a uber car (skrrt) jumpin’ out with two bazookas and a suit of armour blow apart the booth and puff a doobie, go to zumba cl-ss you ain’t the sickest, you’re a hypochondriac so just loosen up (relax), go get some juice in a chicken noodle cup {slurps} i got a pandemic flu and i’m pukin’ up blood full of aids, the bubonic plague and a case of whooping cough jumpin’ jupiter, who would ever -ssumed that the goofiest kid in school would of grew to be even stupider screw the tutor, i’m a huffing tube of glue in a cubicle ate a urinal cake and i think it’s caught on my uvula all i wanted to do was to rap and improve and do better boostin’ up all of my sk!lls, feel like you didn’t get the newsletter now i just wanna ruin your buzz, i’m a f-ckin’ mood k!ller you should evacuate from the place ’cause i’m goin’ nuclear so f-ck bein’ the sharpest tool in the shed, i just grab it and stab your crew with it, who want it? pshh, i’ll ruin ya’s takin’ your cash cow and i grill it and serve it back to ya there’s some barbecue rap for ya, chew it up, it’s the coup de grâce